


Starved

by bearundersiege



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearundersiege/pseuds/bearundersiege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Power' is relative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starved

Tom’s eyes are harsh and dark, grip slack on the hand resting heavy on his throat. Harry presses down harder and his breathing hitches, exhales coming out in wheezes. They’ve played this game before, when Harry won Gryffindor their first Quidditch match and Tom caught him outside the shower, the adrenaline of post-triumph headiness making him just a bit more reckless, the flash in Tom’s eyes provoking him just a bit too much until he had him pinned to a wall by the throat and thought _‘I can end this now’_ as Tom struggled and pushed, strength growing feeble—

But his hand slackened. Tom hadn’t even gotten his breath back before Harry was stealing it from him, biting his lip and tasting blood, licking the iron taste of it away as his hands cupped the boy’s arse and he ground their hips together, the friction of it making Tom break away to moan until he is pulled back down for silence. Harry had shifted their position to wedge a leg between Tom’s and though it had been months since the Horcrux had been destroyed, he thought he could feel prickles of it still, the soul-piercing fury of Voldemort when he refused to move his leg, when Tom was forced to grind down instead, hands bruising on Harry’s arms, movements stuttering as he came. Harry parried the resulting nonverbal jinx with a smile, murmuring ‘Espiskey’ to the cut on Tom’s mouth. 

They’ve learned since then. Tom now isn’t struggling, and Harry has learned to quiet the thoughts that make him want to tighten his grip when his hands find their way to the line of Tom’s throat. He reaches down to the slippery entrance of Tom’s arse and presses two fingers inside, thrusting slowly until the catch in Tom’s breathing come from something other than the pressure in his lungs. Harry tightens the hand on his neck, watching for signs of real distress, while the other continues to fuck him at a languid pace, catching onto the spot just a little bit longer each time. There is a sharp resistance against his hand suddenly and Tom is grinding down on his fingers, cock red and smearing precum on their bellies, straining, until Harry obliges and fucks him harder, easing the pressure on his throat just before Tom comes with a hitching sigh. 

And despite what Harry tells himself about this game of theirs being Tom’s design, he can’t help but feel pleased at the shift of power when the other boy is like this, sated and sweaty and human, eyes sleepy and fingers threading into Harry’s hair as he pulls him down for a kiss, back arching off the bed when Harry’s cock replaces his fingers, lips pressing against his jaw until Harry goes slack above him. 

There is, he thinks, pulling Tom against his chest, going to be retribution for this. But tonight he is staying, curling into the heat of Harry’s body. The consequences will have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend who wanted Harry/Tom. Hints of a time travel AU.


End file.
